Forgiveness
by Nicholas de Vilance
Summary: Murphy always gets his way and Connor always forgives him. one shot warning: slash, incest...I feel like a hypocrite, so sue me. If you don't like it don't read it


Nicholas: I'm warning you for the second time! This is SLASH! This is INCEST! If you are offended in any way, shape and/or form, please do not read it. Do not flame me if you do not like the subject matter, because you are reading this of your own free will. If you like it, then I like you all the more.

Rated M because of explicitness, as in most of the stuff I write.

Disclaimer: Don't own, don't claim to own, but I do wish I owned it...oh how I wish! Mr. bunny-kinns would take over the world!!! Mwahahahahahahahaha!!!

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Connor hated shopping. Especially grocery shopping. _Especially_ when he had to go grocery shopping with Murphy while Da was away in Ireland. Murphy would often want to buy stuff that they really didn't need—when he was hungry, it was worse. If Connor let him have his way, they'd be dragging the whole store behind them on the way back. This time, he was spared all that pain and agony. Murphy refused to wake up from what must have been a very good dream. Connor had hit him over the head with a pillow four times and the only response he got was "Fuck ye, Delores."

So Connor did the shopping himself, and found it a lot less strenuous than when Murphy was at his elbow questioning everything he bought. What really pissed him off—besides the lady at the cash register, being a bitch and mistaking every move he made for male dominance bullshit (he disliked feminists)—was that he got home with a bag of groceries and was really ready to lay down when he realized he didn't have his keys.

"Fuck," he muttered quietly. He reached for the doorknob, hoping he had forgotten to lock it, when it suddenly opened.

Murphy stood there; staring at him dumbly, looking like he'd just woke up. "Yo," he muttered.

Connor smiled half-heartedly and pushed him out of the way gently. "What is it with you and Delores?" he asked as he set the bag down on the coffee table. "Ya haven't even seen or heard from her in five fuckin' years." He started taking things like chips, beers, and other snack food out of the grocery bag and laying them on the table. He became aware of Murphy standing just slightly behind him, looking over his shoulder. "Earth ta Murph," he muttered.

Murphy glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. Shit…Connor had seen this act before. Again, shit…. "Whatcha want, Murphy?" Murphy remained silent and perched his chin on Connor's shoulder. Connor reached up and patted his brother's cheek lightly.

"Ya didn't get doughnuts," Murphy commented quietly, still tired from sleeping so long.

With a twitch and a balling of his fist, something inside Connor's brain just snapped. He suddenly shoved Murphy off of his shoulder and pushed him back. "Of all the fuckin'—You no good son o' a—I oughta fuckin' castrate ya!—" Connor went on like this for a while and Murphy just watched him curse at nothing and everything and sat down on the couch, opening a bag of chips to munch on. Connor had done this a few times in their lives together, and Murphy knew it was better to just let him vent.

After maybe ten minutes—or some ridiculously long amount of time—Connor finally fell silent, twitching only slightly. Murphy stood carefully and touched his arm. His hand was swatted away and Connor glared at him venomously. Then, with a newspaper in hand, Connor sat down on the couch and started reading it—or pretended to read it.

Murphy looked at him, long and hard, with him calm, emotionless look that he often had when he was sober. He felt a bit bad for making Connor blow a gasket, and Connor looked more pissed off than usual. After a beat, Murphy pulled the paper away from his brother—who wasn't actually holding it very tightly. Connor didn't even look at him. Murphy kneeled down, pushed himself between Connor's legs and laid his head on Connor's chest.

"Are ya mad a me, Conn?" His face still held no emotion.

"Yes," Connor muttered, staring off at the ceiling.

"Would ya forgive me?"

"No."

Murphy kissed Connor's neck lightly. He let his tongue linger on his brother's skin for longer than what was necessary. He felt Connor shiver slightly. "Now?"

Connor's voice got quieter. "Nope," he stated, stubbornly.

Murphy's hand traveled up Connor's leg slowly, while Murphy reached his head up to nibble on Connor's ear. Connor didn't move, but Murphy could tell he was trying hard to stay still. "Now will ya forgive me?"

His warm breath made Connor tingle all over. Connor chanced a negative reply and felt Murphy's hand reach its destination at the edge of his jeans. Connor felt his brother's fingers brush over the skin on his stomach. Then there was Murphy's tongue to consider. Connor was gradually losing his composure—but he really wasn't holding on too tight.

Murphy slipped his tongue into Connor's mouth and his thin fingers fumbled with the button on Connor's jeans. His unoccupied hand was aimlessly wandering what he knew to be sensitive spots on Connor's body. He ran his short nails up the small of Connor's back and Connor gave up instantly. He grabbed Murphy's shoulders stiffly and finally reacted to Murphy's tongue in his mouth.

Victorious, Murphy smirked into the kiss and at last managed to unzip Connor's pants. Connor moaned gently when Murphy brought his other hand up Connor's spine, scratching him lightly. Murphy's long, thin fingers tangled themselves in the hair on the back of Connor's head and yanked his head back roughly, but not harshly. The kiss ended and Connor gasped in a sharp breath. Murphy took once more to kissing his now exposed neck. His other hand was place strategically just beneath the elastic of Connor's boxers.

"So, do ya forgive me, Conn?" Murphy spoke quietly and gently, his breath hitting Connor's neck so that he quivered slightly.

Connor grunted slightly in annoyance, slightly giving in. "Don't I always, ya little bastard?" He was clinging to Murphy now and it made Murphy feel very much in control. He liked having his way.

Murphy released Connor's hair quickly and yanked on his shirt. And god, his tongue went to work again. Just when Connor was starting to really enjoy himself in the situation, the phone rang from between the cushions of the couch. 'Jesus…I wonder how it got there,' Connor thought sarcastically, glancing at Murphy accusingly. Murphy just looked up at him with a smug little smirk and waited for him to answer the phone.

"Hello?" Connor said.

A very familiar voice came from the other line, but Connor couldn't place it right away. "Hey, this sounds like Connor." He heard the girl giggle and suddenly it dawned on him like a smack in the face. It was his cousin. "Been a long time, hasn't it?"

"Delores, is that you?" He was very surprised to hear from her. He was even more surprised when Murphy proceeded to pull off his jeans. "Ack!—I mean, how have ya been? Ya still in Ireland?"

"Did I call at a bad time?" she questioned nervously. "Is Murphy there?"

"No, ya didn't call at a bad time," Connor said, while off went his boxers as well. "Murphy's here, d'ya want ta talk ta him?" He poked Murphy in the forehead. "She wants ta talk ta ya."

"I'm busy," he stated loud enough to be heard by Delores. "Sorry, Delores. Love ya!" Then Murphy's mouth found another occupation that made Connor hitch and hold in a loud moan that would definitely not have sounded good to the one on the phone.

"That's okay, Murph," Delores chattered on, completely oblivious.

Connor's breath was starting to speed up while Murphy's tongue worked it's magic once more. "I—I'm sorry Delores, can I—" he muttered a quiet "fuck" under his breath "—can I call ya b-back."

"What are ya guys doin'?" She suddenly sounded very freaked out.

Connor took the phone away from his ear for moment, threw his head back against the couch and took in a few deep breaths as his toes curled. Once that was done, he returned to the call at hand. "Funny ye should ask that, actually," he stated, his voice slightly higher pitched. "I'll tell ya about it when I call ya back." He clicked the call off and tossed the phone down. Then he grabbed Murphy's hair roughly—quite a bit pissed off at him again.

Murphy stopped suddenly and straightened up to look at Connor. "I think ya could've handled that better," he muttered with a devilish grin.

"Yer a fuckin' cocksucker," Connor muttered, while he caught his breath.

"Only yers." Murphy said, once again laying his head on Connor now bare chest. "And remember ta call Delores back, I want ta talk ta her."


End file.
